


Dawn at the Ledore Mansion

by Ageofavalon



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good lord that game destroyed me, Hugs, Miracle Mask Spoilers, Possibly Pre-Slash, These Little Shits, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ageofavalon/pseuds/Ageofavalon
Summary: After the emotional roller coaster that occurred after the Final Miracle, there are two friends who desperately need to see each other. Thank goodness the Ledore Mansion bedrooms are soundproof.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So...I literally haven't written fic since about 2004. And this is the only thing I've ever been brave enough to publish.
> 
> But THIS game...I couldn't stop thinking about these two idiots reuniting until I had it written somewhere. And it's an emotional mess with tears galore and the hug they should have had on screen because why didn't we get a proper reuniting scene?!?
> 
> Disclaimers: I'm in the UK so all names use their UK release spellings. This was initially written at 2AM the night I finished the game and while it is edited, it may still be a hopeless mess. Please do let me know of any typo's or any feedback. Oh, and I apologise if anyone seems out of character, I did my best to keep it realistic to their personalities while still making it an emotional explosion.

The adrenaline, honestly, was the only thing that kept them all going as long as they did.

 

Luckily, no-one had been harmed by the avalanche of desert sand but there was still things to be organised: clean up operations, rescuing panicked Monte d’Or citizens from lamp posts they had climbed in fits of panicked athleticism and emergency repairs to building infrastructure. The rise of the Azran vault had left most buildings miraculously unharmed and stable but any buildings that had been affected needed to be secured temporarily until more permanent repairs could be carried out. Thankfully, Monte d’Or’s vast troop of constables had already started coaxing middle aged men and frightened cats down from their various perches. Any remaining police officers were preventing curious onlookers from disturbing the reunion going on at the Gallery Plaza. Most of the gathered crowd seemed surprisingly calm about the events of the last hour or so, but it was better to be safe than sorry. A scared person could be a dangerous one and an angry person even more so, as Randall Ascot had proved rather well.

 

Randall would quite happily have welcomed any anger directed towards him. He expected it, wanted it even, he had acted so _badly_... The guilt gnawed at him from where he knelt among the debris, half wrapped up in his mother’s arms. Angela approached from behind Mrs Ledore’s chair and slid down next him to pull him into her arms as well, disregarding the state he was in and the sandy ground against her legs. He couldn’t stop the tears running down his face, hadn’t been able to for a few minutes now. The thought of everything they’d _done_ for him, in his name...it was too much, it was _far_ too much to take in. His recent brush with death probably had something to do with it too, if he was honest.

 

“Are you alright?” Angela said into his hair, where she was holding his face to her shoulder. He’d undoubtedly made a right mess of her outfit with the amount he’d cried so far.

 

Randall laughed then, although it came out weak and wobbly.

 

“N-No idea. Have-having everything you thought you k-knew turned on its head...will do that I suppose”. Good grief, he sounded _awful_.

 

His mother tutted above him.

 

“Be gentle with yourself dear, it’s been a bit of a shock for all of us tonight.” Her voice was thick with tears as well, although she had managed to keep herself more far more composed than he had. One of the perks of nobility, although she’d never used the title of Lady for as long as he could remember.

 

“Far too fussy, dear. Not suitable for a small place like Stansbury”

 

...Had he said that out loud?

 

“Yes dear, you did” There was a definite smile in his mother’s voice now.

 

_Drat._

 

“I believe”, came Henry’s voice as he walked towards them, “that this is a sign that rest is in order, Master Randall. Or at the very least, to take this conversation inside”. He smiled wryly. “I’ve been more or less ordered to get all of us off the street so the force can start clean up”. He pointed behind him where several unfortunate policemen were having brooms and dustpans shoved into their hands by an irate Chief Inspector, who was shouting at them that as the street cleaners couldn’t be organised yet _this is your job right now, dammit, and you’ll get on with it without making a fuss, am I clear men?!?_ Several members of the public and of Stellar circus were already hard at work clearing the street enough to let others get by without having to scale sand-dunes. An unfortunate Bungle was being shouted at with the officers despite his protests.

 

“Henry, you need to drop the ‘Master’ title” Randall frowned. He shifted uneasily, trying to wriggle back and away from Angela. “You shouldn’t be treating me like this, any of you, I put you all in danger because of my own stupidity and pride...”

 

Henry bent down, helping a startled Randall to his feet. “That’s rather our choice, Master Randall, isn’t it?” He smiled gently, setting his hand on Randall’s arm. Angela stood too, gracefully brushing off her knees and moving behind Mrs Ascot’s wheelchair to help her back to the Ledore Mansion.

 

“Henry!” Randall exclaimed, looking distraught, “I don’t deserve it! Especially not from you, you’ve done all this for _me_ and heaven knows I'm not worth it, I went after you based on ridiculous lies, I wanted to hurt you over some lunatic’s fairytales. You should hate me!” Randall was panting at the end of this, having pulled away from Henry at some point in his rant. He dropped his eyes, shoulders shaking. “Why don’t you hate me?”

 

His voice was smaller than anyone there had ever heard it.

 

Henry stepped forward, gathering Randall into a tight hug.

 

“Because you’re my friend.” A smile played around his lips. “Nothing will change that, certainly not lies and slander from a vile man like Descole. Don’t blame yourself for falling for his deception.” Henry frowned then. “You certainly don’t deserve whatever it is you think you do. Including-” He squeezed Randall to him then. “Falling to your death in _another_ chasm. I am not prepared to lose you so soon after you found your way home, Master Randall”

 

“St’p callin’ me Master Randall” came a shaky voice from his shoulder.

 

“Certainly, Master Randall”

 

The exasperated noise that followed had everyone close enough to hear it biting back laughter.

 

* * *

 

It was a flurry of activity from that point forward.

 

Randall had finally been ushered up Knick-Knack alley and led into the confines of the Ledore mansion, with Henry guiding him and their small entourage of family and friends into the parlour. Clean up of the city had begun in earnest, and they were rather in the way.

 

Dalston hadn’t managed to wait until they were inside to snatch Randall up in a ferocious hug. Randall had been in genuine fear for his ribs, but it was fantastic to see his old frenemy again. Amazingly, Dalston didn’t seem to hold any animosity towards him either. “Good for business, that whole Miracle stunt production” he’d said with a grin and a rather over-enthusiastic slap to Randall’s back. “I should thank you really! Brought all the tourists in. Packed out the Camel’s Hump like nobody’s business!” Randall was too busy regaining his balance to reply.

 

Tannenbaum hadn’t waited much longer, clutching his adopted son tightly and sternly informing him that if he wasn’t already full grown he would be given such a _wallop_ for scaring him like that.

 

With all the fussing, it wasn’t until everyone was settled comfortably in the parlour with drinks and food that Randall realised that someone was missing.

 

“Wait...HERSHEL!” Randall leapt up and made to sprint from the room, but was caught around the waist by Angela and Henry before he’d made it off the sofa.

 

“Randall, wait, wait, it’s FINE, stop _thrashing you silly man!_ ”

 

“Master Randall, please! Listen!”

 

Randall had quickly run out of steam. Working to avoid detection and feverishly planning and executing his miracles had left him running on little sleep and less food. He slumped back between his oldest friends, breathing harshly.

 

“But...”

 

“Honestly, ya twit! Hershel’s fine! In fact, he’ll be here in a bit, had to send him back to the Camel’s Hump to grab his stuff didn’t I? That and he’s probably helping out the Inspectors with sorting the clean up. Ha, you should have been there earlier! Put all them police ninnies in their place when he figured out how you’d pulled them miracles off!” Dalston was laughing now, slapping his leg in glee. “Damn clever! He might be better at that puzzle malarkey then you are now!”

 

It took Randall a moment to process all that.

 

“...What? Really?”

 

“Yep! Don’t tell him I said that, mind you. Can’t have him getting a big head under that stupid hat of his.”

 

Randall interrupted, waving his hands. “No, not that. Hershel’s coming up here?”

 

“Doubt anything’ll stop him! Might take him a bit though, he’s got those two he was with to sort out as well. And it’s a bit of a trek from the Hump to here.”

 

Randall must not have hidden his worry as well as he thought, because Angela lent over to him once Dalston had been drawn into a conversation with Henry about how the Masked Gentlemen’s antics had affected their hotels. Mrs Ascot was busy sharing Randall-themed anecdotes with Tannenbaum. Distantly, Randall thought he should be concerned about that.

 

“Stop fretting, Randall”. She smiled gently, taking his hand in both of hers. “He’ll be here. You didn’t see his face once we got all that nonsense by the chasm sorted out.” She squeezed his hand gently. “He’s missed you _horribly_ ; there is nothing that would stop him from being here as soon as he can.”

 

Randall felt himself relax more and more with each word. He squeezed Angela’s hands in return.

 

“Well, if you put it that way I have no choice but to believe you!”

 

Angela gave him a warm look. “Good. Now, how do you feel about getting into some clean clothes that aren’t that awful masked get up?”

 

“Oh, thank Rutledge. Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?”

 

“Hmm, not recently. Feel free to start any time though”

 

* * *

 

Being clean, warm, full and surrounded by people who cared about him had led to an exhausted Randall drifting off to sleep on the sofa to the sound of quiet conversation and Henry’s warm weight against his side. When he woke up, pre-dawn light was breaking outside the window. Randall sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Angela and Henry who had fallen asleep on either side of him. He had to gently move Henry, as it happened, as the man in question had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

 

Randall gently shifted his friend until he was able to slide out from underneath him. He slowly manoeuvred Henry until he leant against Angela, who was asleep at a slightly uncomfortable looking angle. The pair of them would likely be sore as anything in the morning, Randall thought, shaking his head (though he sent them both a fond look at the same time). Well. Later in the morning, anyway.

 

Randall stood and stretched luxuriously, feeling his joints pop and muscles ache from time spent in an equally uncomfortable position. _But wasn’t it the best sleep you’ve had for a long time, eh?_ Randall smiled softly to himself. To think, to find himself with that kind of welcome. Especially after...

 

_NOPE, NO, DO NOT GO THERE RIGHT NOW ASCOT._

Randall took a fortifying breath, pushing the self loathing and the guilt down down _down_ to be dealt with later and surveyed the parlour properly.

 

The three of them were in the front area of the house, a lounge with comfortable, tasteful furniture and dignified, _boring_ decorations. All a bit ridiculous really, but he wasn’t going to complain since it was hardly his business how Henry and Angela decorated their home. Branching off from this space was a hallway leading to the other ground floor rooms and the stairs. Randall snuck up the stairs and crept down the corridor so as not to disturb anyone who was sleeping. He walked past one of the bathrooms, he’d spent a fair bit of time in there yesterday getting sand out of ridiculous places ( _How did sand get in there anyway?!?),_ changing clothes and generally making himself feel human again. Thankfully, Henry and he were similar enough in size that Randall had been able to borrow some of Henry’s clothes. Angela had offered some of hers, but Henry wasn’t sure he could pull off a dress as well as she did.

 

The other rooms upstairs were almost all bedrooms, aside from Henry’s study of course. Dalston’s shoes had been dumped untidily in front of one bedroom door for their owner to trip over in the morning. His mother had left her door slightly open just in case she was needed, a habit she’d kept from his childhood. Tannenbaum’s distinctive snoring echoed from behind another ajar door. The other rooms however...

 

Henry had mentioned that he’d asked Hershel to accept his hospitality and stay at the Ledore mansion for the rest of his time in Monte d’Or. Randall had said that hadn’t been sure why Hershel hadn’t been staying there anyway as the two of them had always gotten on well, so Angela had explained the circumstances leading up to Randall’s reveal. Henry and Angela were incredibly guilty over how they’d acted towards Hershel after Randall’s ‘death’ and were eager to make up for it, so hopefully Hershel’s acceptance of their hospitality was the first step to overcoming any lingering negative feelings.

 

Speaking of Hershel, Randall hadn’t been awake to see him arrive. Acting on the impulse to find his friend, Randall crept to the closest closed door. Thankfully, all of the lights in the hallway had been turned off in deference to the early hour, so he didn’t worry about light spilling into the room as he pushed the door open.

 

Inside, sprawled in the bed were two figures. Randall blinked, wracking his brains to figure out who the young woman and small boy were until...Oh! They’d been with Hershel. He’d...hung that boy from his belt high off the ground and laughed about it. _Ahem. Well._ _That’s another apology to add to the list then._ They made a fine picture, the two of them, the woman starfishing out on her stomach under the blankets and snoring loud enough to challenge Tannenbaum while the young lad sprawled bonelessly in the remaining room on the bed and seemed no worse for wear ( _Thank Rutledge!)._ The boy (was it Luke? Was that what Hersh had called him?) was lying on top of the covers with a separate blanket thrown over him and looked utterly unconcerned by his companions night-time noises. Randall had to hold back laughter as he closed the door silently.

 

Well. That left one door. Randall crept over to it...and stopped dead.

 

_Hershel._

Heck. Randall shoved a suddenly-shaking hand through his hair, wrapping his other hand around himself in a half-hug. This was _awful._ All he wanted to do was throw himself through the door and onto his best friend and never let him go again. He wanted to shout and cry and apologise for the damn ruins and being so foolhardy and for all the masked gentleman nonsense and beg Hersh to forgive him for being so _utterly stupid_. Randall took a second to viciously beat back the encroaching guilt before looking back at the door.

 

Damn it all! What if Angie was wrong? What if Hershel hated him for what he’d done, what if he’d only grabbed his hand on impulse? Randall had read about Hershel’s illustrious career as Professor at Gressenheller University (And wasn’t that something? Randall was so ridiculously proud of him) and how his friend was well known for dropping everything to help someone in need. It could have just been that which had led to Hersh trying to save him from death by chasm, acting on impulse when really he would have stood by...no, Hershel would NEVER have done that, what are you _thinking,_ Ascot?!? For goodness sake, this whole situation had his brain in a complete mess.

 

Randall sighed, silently. He was still staring at the door. Angie had said...but what if...he didn’t _deserve_...oh, hang it all! Randall turned to leave, preparing to head downstairs and curl up in one of the overstuffed armchairs when he spotted...was that tape? On the door? Randall peeled it off, rolling it between his fingers. Had something been stuck there? He looked around, quickly spotting a folded sheet of paper stuck in a nearby pot plant. It was the heavy cream coloured stationary Henry kept in his study.

 

The front of the note read _Randall._

Heart hammering behind his ribs, Randall opened it.

 

_Randall,_

_I know you’re standing there. Come in and wake me. A gentleman doesn’t keep others waiting, after all._

_-Hershel_

 

Randall let out a huff, nearly a laugh. Hershel, apparently, still knew him far too well. Enough to throw in the dig about being a gentleman, knowing Randall would hardly let that stand...alright.

 

Randall pushed the door open, then shut it quietly behind him.

 

There was just enough light coming in through the un-drawn windows to see the room clearly. Clothes were neatly hung over a chair, shoes tucked underneath and out of the way. That absurd hat ( _Really, Hersh?_ ) was placed on the seat. At the foot of the large bed sat an unopened trunk, and in the bed...

 

His best friend was curled up on his side in the middle of the bed, hand shoved underneath the pillow like when they were kids and _oh Hersh it’s really you..._

He must have made a noise because Hershel started to wake up. He pushed himself up, still almost asleep ( _Blimey, has he slept at all these past few days?! He looks more tired than I am!_ ) and sat mostly upright, propped up on his hands. Randall caught the exact moment Hershel identified him, their eyes meeting across the room. Hershel looked ridiculously endearing like that, sleepy and pyjama-clad, short hair ruffled and messy and he looked at Randall like no one ever had before _._ Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

 

“...Randall?” Hershel’s voice was so quiet, desperate and so _hopeful._

And that did it. Randall let out a noise like a wounded animal and sprinted across the room.

 

He didn’t remember reaching the bed, all he knew was _Hershel is here, he’s here_ and his hands were clutching at his friends pyjama jacket, face buried in his shoulder, practically throwing himself into Hershel’s arms and sobbing like a child.

 

Hershel wasn’t much better off, tears streaming down his face as he held Randall to him tighter than anyone else ever had. One of his hands was buried in Randall’s hair, the other fisted into his friend’s borrowed cardigan. Choked off gasps mingled with Randall’s sobs as the two of them clutched each other for what felt like an eternity.

 

After a while the frantic, whispered apologies started.

 

“ _I'm sorry I’m sorry  I'm so sorry I killed you it was my fault I couldn’t save you I thought I’d lost you I gave up I’m so sorry Randall-”_

_“-Don’t you DARE blame yourself it wasn’t your fault I took us down there like an idiot and got myself in trouble and you saved me remember? Before with the stupid mummy robot things and today as well you caught me Hersh, you damn well saved me it’s my fault I didn’t reach for you.”_

_“But I couldn’t hold you, you slipped out of my hands and god I’ve never forgotten it, I dream it sometimes, Randall it’s my fault-”_

“-Listen to me, it’s NOT.” Randall pulled back just enough to meet Hershel’s eyes, glaring as fiercely as he could through his tears. They were both in an utter state, the emotional release had left them both speaking like teenagers again; they were leaving tear stains everywhere and any other time they both would have been so embarrassed. But Randall had to make him understand, had to show Hershel that it wasn’t his fault. His friend was more upset than he’d ever seen him; all tear tracks and blotchy cheeks and looking utterly miserable. They hadn’t let go of each other, so Randall used his hold on Hershel to bring him closer, touching foreheads with him.

 

“It. Was Not. Your. Fault.”

 

“But-”

 

“No, Hersh. It was NOT. YOUR. FAULT. I wasn’t helping myself there, I wouldn’t grab your hand because I was more concerned about the bloody mask-“

 

“Randall!”

 

“Shush, you. We’re both adults, I can swear if I like. You couldn’t pull me up from that angle, you nearly went over yourself. Don’t think I didn’t see! I was an idiot, plain and simple. It’s my fault I fell, NOT yours. Never yours. You tried to save me, and you damn near did. Even when I didn’t want to be saved, you tried.”

 

Hershel’s breathing had calmed a bit, so when he spoke next it was easy to hear his anger. His hands clenched where they both now gripped his cardigan.

 

“I'm _unbelievably_ cross with you for that. You did not and DO not deserve to die. If Henry hadn’t-“ Hershel broke off here, breathing heavily. “If-” He couldn’t finish. Hershel clenched his eyes shut, leaning into Randall more heavily and trying to control his breathing.

 

“I'm okay, Hersh.” Randall gave his best friend a wobbly smile. “You all saved me.”

 

Hershel sighed, relaxing his grip after a moment. “You aren’t fine, Randall. Neither am I, for that matter.”

 

“No, but we will be.” Randall rubbed their foreheads together gently, bringing Hershel’s eyes back to him. His next question was quiet but wholly serious.

 

“Have you really been having nightmares about...?”

 

Hershel let out an involuntary shudder but didn’t say anything, shutting his eyes again. Randall gave him a horrified, _guilty_ look for a moment before his face firmed in resolve.

 

“Right. Well, you won’t be having one tonight, budge over.” He let go of Hershel just to shove at him (gently), moving his suddenly flustered friend over enough to make room for him in the bed.

 

“Randall? Randall, really! What are you...?” “Hush, you. Right, come here and bring that pillow with you.”

 

Despite his protests (weak though they were, and both of them knew it), Randall soon had Hershel’s head tucked under his chin, their bodies plastered together and legs intertwined. The pillows were promptly organised for maximum comfort while holding each other, the blankets tucked round them in a cosy cocoon. It wasn’t a wholly unfamiliar situation, Randall had always had zero concept of personal space and they’d often ended up like this during sleepovers and study sessions. Hershel however, hanging on to the last of his proprietary nature, felt he should make one more token protest.

 

“Randall, we are hardly teenagers any more. And honestly, I’ve been managing myself quite well with these nightmares over the years, you don’t need to-“

 

“Ah, but I want to. And your bright red face says you aren’t as unhappy about this as you would have me believe.” And there was the old Randall Ascot smirk.

 

Hershel reacted to that as he always had in the past. He turned even redder, looked away and grumbled under his breath. The effect of that was lessened somewhat by the position he was in, so Randall’s response was to chuckle and run a hand through his friend’s close-cropped hair.

 

“Sleep, Hersh. I'm not letting you suffer those dreams tonight, and I’ll sleep better here with you as well.” Randall bit his lip, quietly admitting “You aren’t the only one who could do with a bit of comfort after all that’s happened.”

 

He knew that (honest) line had worked when he felt Hershel finally fully relax into the hug and his breathing slow little by little. Randall had started to drift off himself when...

 

“I fear we still have a lot to talk about. Tomorrow, though.”

 

Randall smiled into Hershel’s hair. “Later today, you mean. Sleep well, Hersh”

 

But Hershel was already dead to the world.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that morning, Emmy had to be physically restrained from going for her camera. Luke had been puzzled for a moment, but had quickly shrugged it off, telling anyone who would listen that the two men were really cute like that and they must be really good friends and the Professor needed to sleep more anyway. Everyone else just smiled at the picture that Randall and Hershel made curled up together and left them to sleep in peace.


End file.
